


Perceptual Blindness

by Guilty_Pleasures69



Series: Jaskier, The Friendly Neighborhood Incubus [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Piercings, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Self-Lubrication, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guilty_Pleasures69/pseuds/Guilty_Pleasures69
Summary: “Geralt?”The witcher hummed again.“Did this feel ...different to you?”Geralt’s brows furrow and he grasps for straws. “Your slick definitely simplifies things. It was a good fuck.”That, the witcher knew, wasnotwhat Jaskier was asking.His songbird smiled all the same.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier, The Friendly Neighborhood Incubus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120100
Comments: 29
Kudos: 519
Collections: The Witcher - Various Alternate Universes





	1. Geralt

_ He likes the bard _ , Geralt reminded himself, the incubus was great in bed and good for his coin purse. Their traveling together livened Geralt’s life and filled some nameless void the witcher wasn’t keen on focusing too hard on. 

The point was, Geralt enjoyed Jaskier’s company.

...Most of the time.

And one  _ should not _ kill the bard one likes even if their songs are  _ shit _ . Even if one gets the  _ stupid _ melody stuck in one’s head and wants to  _ kill _ the bard. 

“TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!”

“Damnit, Jaskier!” Geralt snapped fiercely and approached the incubus from across the inn as he played that godforsaken song for the fifth time.

“A FRIEND OF HUMANI-” Jaskier squealed as he was hefted off his feet and onto the witcher’s shoulder. “What are you doing? GERALT?! The audience was loving me!”

Geralt paid the wiggling bard no heed as he carried the  _ irritating  _ little shit back to their room.

“Geralt!? Put me down this instant, Geralt!” The witcher dropped Jaskier unceremoniously onto the bed. “What kind of INSOLENT BRUTE are you?”

Geralt didn’t try to answer, there was no use when he knew for certain he would not get a word in edgewise.

He learned that the same way a witcher learned most things, the hard way.

“I can’t believe you saw it fit to just  _ carry me away  _ in the middle of a song! It wasn’t even the middle! That would have been kinder! I was at the  _ crescendo,  _ Geralt! Do you have any idea what that means?”

He didn’t, but Geralt didn’t mention that as he approached the fuming bard silently.

“The loudest, most memorable part of the song that everyone sings along to! That’s where you cut me off! If still, you don’t understand the true  _ crime _ , nay, _ atrocity _ that you inflicted upon those poor humans I had absolutely spellbound with my lute and lyrical voice, let me put it into more understandable terms for you!”

The witcher began methodically unbuttoning and unlacing Jaskier’s clothes. 

“What if I engulfed your throbbing knot and promis-” The incubus finally snapped out of his rant, “Geralt? What are you doing?”

Geralt kept to his silence and gently removed Jaskier’s doublet and undershirt. The witcher wasn’t one for words. 

Actions, however.

“ _ Geralt! _ ” The bard whined indignantly, “You can’t just  _ sex me up _ and expect me to forget that I’m mad at you!”

They both knew that was a lie.

The witcher had become proficient at quelling Jaskier’s rants. The most effective method thus far had been redirecting the bard’s attention to more… carnal outlets.

Geralt traced Jaskier’s cheekbone with feather-light touches and leaned down to kiss plump, pink lips. The incubus liked that, soft touches and reverent kisses. 

They made the bard smile.

Geralt liked Jaskier’s smile.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Witcher! And while I have been weak for your advances in the past I won’t be so easi-” Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s ass and lifted him until the incubus wrapped shapely legs around the witcher’s waist. “I won’t be so… so easily, easily swayed from… uhhhh fUCK!”

Geralt sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the tantalizing golden hoop.

One arm supported Jaskier’s slight weight while his other hand traced each nob up the bard’s spine. The incubus arched his back with a wordless moan at the attention. Gooseflesh bloomed across Jaskier’s bare shoulders and Geralt’s eyes flitted over to the hearth. 

He casted igni and lit the room in an orange glow.

“Setting the mood, Geralt?” Jaskier teased and weaved his hands through silver locks, “I knew you were a romantic beneath that violent and cantankerous exterior.”

The witcher growled and strode over to the bed, dropping the incubus onto the sheets.

“No, Geralt, bad!” Jaskier wagged a finger at the looming witcher, “I want to be  _ romanced _ !”

Geralt knelt between the bard’s legs and kissed a path up Jaskier’s belly. He played gently with the golden sun decorating the bard’s navel before moving on. Geralt kissed his way up to the hollow of Jaskier’s throat and bit him there.

The incubus shivered, baring more of his neck to Geralt’s ministrations as his slender fingers worked to open the laces along the witcher’s shirt. Geralt pulled the garment over his head and returned to lavish the other side of Jaskier’s neck.

“Pants off, Geralt.” The bard whined, “Please, come on!”

The witcher stood just long enough to lose his britches and pull Jaskier’s off before climbing back over the incubus. 

Geralt took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. The bard was splayed out over the inn’s gray sheets and the warm glow of the fire lit up his features, making Jaskier look more like a dream than reality. They had been traveling together for weeks and the witcher noticed the incubus’ body filling out.

When they met, Jaskier had been skin and bone. Beautiful, but starving. The outlines of his ribs and spine had often taken Geralt by surprise, the witcher knew they were there but it was easy to forget. Jaskier’s bright attitude and endless bouts of energy often overshadowed the bleak parts of the bard's life.

Geralt shook his head and forced himself to take in the soft curves of Jaskier’s hips and thighs, the healthy layer of fat hiding his ribs’ definition, and Geralt’s favorite change of the bard’s physique, the gentle curve of his belly. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Geralt purred.

Heat rose in Jaskier’s cheeks and the bard pulled the witcher into a kiss.

“You came at me like a roaring lion and now you’ve decided to caress like a gentle lamb?” The incubus squirmed as his ribs and belly were peppered with more kisses.

Geralt’s words were weak in comparison to his actions, so he said nothing and continued his quest to kiss every swell of the bard’s body.

The witcher didn’t know  _ why _ all the sudden it was imperative for him to  _ worship _ Jaskier. This was supposed to be a quick and dirty fuck to shut the bard up, he hadn’t even intended on knotting them. Now, for some reason, Geralt’s stomach churned at the thought of not giving Jaskier all his attention and showing the incubus what a goddamned  _ masterpiece  _ he was. 

Geralt didn’t dwell on the why’s.

Nor did he examine the feelings that were nestled deeply into his chest.

No, he was quite alright ignoring all that shit and focusing on his bard.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined and wrapped lithe limbs around the witcher, seeking contact.

Geralt buried his nose in his songbird’s dark, wavy hair and inhaled. He wasn't sure when he memorized the scent of sunshine, vanilla, and lemongrass but at some point he had. Jaskier’s natural scent was tangled with the sweet scent of lust and ...something else. Something sweet like lust but also ...fresh.

The witcher furrowed his brows, “You smell different.”

“Figures you’d smell it before you feel it or see it.” Jaskier huffs with a Cheshire grin. “Perhaps you should keep up your delightful explorations, Witcher.”

Geralt growled and nipped the sensitive spot behind his bard’s ear. Sometimes he wondered if Jaskier was truly an incubus or if it was all a ruse to hide that he was a trickster. 

“Oh don’t growl at me,” Jaskier giggled and spread his legs apart further. “Get back to touching me.”

Suddenly that fresh and sweet scent was much more potent and faintly familiar.

Geralt held his songbird’s thighs open and kissed the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. The scent was strongest here, Geralt noticed as he took his lover’s straining cock between his thumb and forefingers and stroked.

“Fuck.” Jaskier huffed and arched his back.

Geralt trailed his fingers over his songbird’s tight, velvet sack and downward to tease the hidden barbell that could make his bard quiver. He listened to Jaskier’s moans and kept playing with that little piece of jewelry he was so fond of. 

“More,” Jaskier whined, “I want more, Geralt!”

The witcher obliged and led his fingers to circle around and rub over his bard’s dusty pink furl. His songbird keened at the ministrations and Geralt’s eyes tore away from the beauty laid out before him to find their bag with the oil in it.

“No, Geralt,” The witcher’s eyes snapped back to Jaskier’s face, “We don’t need oil anymore.”

Geralt frowned, “Yes we do.” 

His bard’s furl was tight as it was and Geralt had thoroughly cleaned the oil from their last coupling off in the bath the night before. He would not take his songbird dry. 

He wouldn’t hurt Jaskier.

“Just-” Jaskier squirmed and reached down to push Geralt’s hand more instantly between his legs, “One finger, Geralt, you’ll see. Trust me.”

With a frown, the witcher did as he was asked and breached his bard gently. He expected a dry passage and a rough slide, instead, his digit was eagerly sucked into his incubus’ passage. 

Jaskier arched into Geralt’s hand and the witcher thrusted his finger a few times, trying to process what he was feeling. His songbird was  _ wet  _ inside. Suddenly he could place the sweet freshness he smelled, now stronger than ever. It was extremely similar to the scent of a woman’s arousal.

“Figure it out yet?” Jaskier made a show of undulating his hips as though he was taking a cock rather than a mere finger. 

Geralt’s neglected cock twitched. “Your hole is slicking itself for me. How?”

“Incubus, remember? How could a creature like me successfully prowl between beds if he had to oil himself up everytime?” His songbird looked smug and smelled of lust.

“You’ve never done that before.” The witcher withdrew his finger and watched the clear slick well at his entrance and drip from his pink rim.

Jaskier shrugged and wiggled his hips for more, “I was starving before. My body stopped nonessential functions to preserve energy. That’s why I still can’t use any persuasions.”

The witcher’s brain got stuck on the past tense ‘was starving’ but not anymore. His songbird was healthier now. Geralt was the reason for that.

Geralt sunk two fingers into Jaskier’s heat and watched him squirm. Felt more and more slick cover his fingers and drip from his bard’s furl. A third finger followed soon and Jaskier panted impatiently. 

His incubus was breathtaking, spread out and grinding into his hand. Geralt felt slim fingers tangle into his hair as a well aimed pulse had his fingertips dragging over Jaskier’s prostate. His songbird released the sheets he’d clutched with his other hand and the witcher groaned as his cock was stroked. 

“In me, Geralt,” Jaskier whimpered breathily, “I’m ready, please!”

Geralt pumped his fingers once more before withdrawing them from his bard’s wet canal and rubbed the excess slick on his cock before lining up. One of his arms pulled Jaskier’s hips up and the other wrapped under his shoulders. His songbird wrapped wiry arms and legs around the witcher with a long moan as Geralt pushed past his loose rim and drew them flush together.

The witcher panted and cradled Jaskier. He set a slow pace with long thrusts that punched small groans out of his bard with every meeting of their hips. Geralt closed his eyes and nosed into Jaskier’s hair, inhaling his scent as his incubus’ tight channel drew him closer and closer to the edge.

He tried to forget his own pleasure and ignore the heat building deep in his belly and the pulse at the base of his cock. Instead, he focused on Jaskier.

Geralt wanted to make his bard  _ sing _ .

He couldn’t get a hand around Jaskier’s cock and keep their closeness, nor was he willing to put space between their bodies. To compensate he angled their hips just right and sunk into his songbird’s heat with specific goal in mind.

Jaskier arched like a bowstring and screamed. 

Geralt sped up a little and tightened his arms around his incubus. He listened to the wails of pleasure he wrung out of his bright, beautiful canary. With bright yellow eyes shut, Geralt listened to the most alluring song his bard could sing, the tempo set by his own cock.

The witcher’s pace and strength paired with his incubus’ sensitivity had Jaskier spilling across the golden sun that adjourned his bard’s belly. The symphony of moans and tight spasms of his songbird’s canals made his knot grow too large to be pleasurably pulled out and popped back in. 

Geralt moaned as his knot grew to its peak and Jaskier’s heat tightened around him like a vice. His orgasm slammed into him like a tsunami and he growled, trying to get deeper into his whining and squirming bard. 

Jaskier shivered through aftershocks as Geralt’s knot pulsed its release, filling his songbird to the brim. They would be stuck for a while yet and the witcher desperately wanted to soothe every inch of his bard’s skin that he could with broad sweeps of his palms. 

Jaskier liked to be pet when they knotted after particularly intense bouts of sex.

“Hold onto me, Songbird.” The witcher absentmindedly instructed, “I’m going to turn us over.”

For a moment Jaskier did nothing but stare at Geralt with wide blue eyes. 

The witcher growled and nudged his incubus into action.

It took some finagling, but eventually, Geralt was on his back and Jaskier was sprawled over his chest. The witcher immediately began rubbing his songbird’s back, he even held ingi in his palms to warm them as they pathed over Jaskier’s hills and valleys. 

His songbird 

“This is lovely,” Jaskier whispered as he was turned into a puddle across Geralt’s chest.

Geralt hummed.

“Geralt?”

The witcher hummed again.

“Did this feel ...different to you?”

Geralt’s brows furrow and he grasps for straws. “Your slick definitely simplifies things. It was a good fuck.” 

That, the witcher knew, was  _ not _ what Jaskier was asking.

His songbird smiled all the same.

Geralt rubbed Jaskier’s back and watched the sun dip below the horizon. His lover fell asleep eventually, still stretched around his knot. 

The witcher couldn’t sleep, not when he could hear the inn’s compatriots racketing below their room. Not when Jaskier was resting so soundly and safely in Geralt’s tight embrace. 

So he didn’t sleep. Not until his knot deflated and slipped free of his songbird. And he settled Jaskier on his side, his bard’s octopus limbs tangled them together indefinitely.

Not until the moon had come and gone and the sun was rising again. 

Not until the inn quieted enough that Geralt could pinpoint all nine other heartbeats that slumbered in their own rooms.

Only then did the tight knot in his chest loosen enough for Geralt to take a deep breath. He tucked his nose into Jaskier’s hair and slept.

...

Luckily, witcher’s needed a fraction of the sleep humans did. He wasn’t sure how much a healthy incubus was meant to sleep but it seemed to be less than a human but more than a witcher. 

Geralt woke before Jaskier, his bard still clinging onto him. This was a common occurrence, Jaskier was a cuddler and they often shared bedrolls. Often being nearly every night seeing as they both had high sex drives and his incubus needed to be satiated for reasons beyond carnal satisfaction. 

What made the morning uncommon and unpleasant was the loud CRACK of the door as it was slammed open hard enough for the wood to splinter.

“WHERE ‘DA FUK IS SHE?” A very loud and very drunk human stormed into the room.

Looking back, Geralt can think of several instances where some dumbass or another barged into his room looking for payment or just being an asshole. None of those times had made rage explode from his every pore.

This time, however, was different. 

The loud bang and loud voices had Jaskier jerking awake. The vanilla and lemongrass scent soured into fear in a split second and his songbird yelped fearfully. Lithe arms tightened around his waist as his bard curled closer to his chest, seeking safety in the witcher.

Geralt’s response was to tug the blanket over his scared lover and roar at the intruder. It was loud even to his own ears and suddenly the fear he scented was from the human at the door rather than the man in his arms.

Had he not been holding Jaskier, Geralt wasn’t sure what would have happened. If he would have risen from the bed and killed the drunkard for daring to ruffle the feathers of his pretty little canary. Luckily though, the witcher just casted aard. 

The human was roughly thrown back into the hallway and the door slammed shut once more. 

“Fucking shit, Geralt.” Jaskier gasped. “That scared the shit out of me, fuck!”

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so he opted to shush his bard and pet his spine.

“What a way to wake up.” His songbird leaned over to kiss the witcher’s cheek, “If you hadn’t been here I probably would have shit myself! That would have been very undignified for a bard of my decorum.”

Geralt listened raptly as Jaskier’s heartbeat settled down and his own followed suit. The witcher didn’t realize how tense he was until his songbird relaxed against him with a sunny smile and Geralt was helpless but to do the same.

“You don’t shit. Nor do you have any decorum.”

“ _ Well,  _ I’ll ignore your lack of eloquence since it's been but hours since you last fucked me into oblivion.” Jaskier sassed as he sat up. "We should bathe, Geralt, we reek of sex."

The incubus began puttering around their room, preparing to bathe as though the witcher he was bedding hadn't nearly killed a man. 

Geralt took a deep breath. His bard’s scent was all sunshine and vanilla again. 

The witcher didn’t care to examine why Jaskier’s safety and happiness had suddenly become paramount to him. 

Geralt just knew he was prepared to kill anyone who tried to hurt his little canary.

"A bath, Geralt! Chop, chop!"

The witcher rolled his eyes and marveled at his songbird's resilience.


	2. Jaskier

Jaskier knew a lot of people looked at him and assumed he was young and stupid. That he fell into too many beds and most of them were the wrong ones. That he’d never make it as a traveling bard.

Jaskier knew what people thought. He could read it on their faces, in their words, and their body language. The incubus was good at that. 

Reading people.

He could tell when it was time to end a set and bow out before things got dicey while performing and what songs would be well received based upon the clientele. His coin purse was heavier for it.

He also had a knack for telling when people -men in particular- were interested in him even if they were too scared to telegraph such desires for fear of persecution. He was alive because of it.

Jaskier’s sixth sense for reading people even applied to their emotions. He knew when someone looked at him with lust, wanting a quick fuck. He knew what jealousy looked like when his fellow students at Oxenfurt envied his abilities. He knew what love looked like when he saw a couple doing their damnedest to make each other happy.

Love, though, was not something he ever expected to see written into the lines of Geralt’s face or weaved into the witcher’s every action. He certainly never dreamed that Geralt would look at  _ Jaskier _ with love and reverence. 

But the witcher does.

Jaskier could see it pooled in his golden eyes. Softening the lines of his face into a very  _ un-witchery  _ not smile ...but something close enough.

He could feel it when Geralt touched him, memorizing all Jaskier’s sensitive spots and using the knowledge to send the incubus to heights of pleasure he’d never known existed. And when the witcher ran his hands over any patch of bare skin he could reach to soothe the incubus back down to the land of the living, Jaskier could feel it then too.

Love often smelled faintly like vanilla. It’s easily overpowered by whatever other emotions might be at the forefront of one’s mind, but it is always there. Imprinted into one’s scent until you don’t realize that person was in love until, one day, that vanilla scent is gone.

Geralt always smelled like vanilla. 

The witcher’s usual sweat and woodsmoke scent had been enveloped with vanilla for nearly as long as Jaskier had known him. Sometimes Jaskier nearly forgot that Geralt didn’t just smell like vanilla for no reason, but that pleasant aroma was the love he felt for Jaskier.

Geralt was a man of few words and never spoke of love -or any sort of fondness for the incubus beyond how beautiful he looked when the witcher was fucking him- but his actions were clear. Geralt filled bath after bath at every inn they stayed in. He warmed the water for Jaskier even though the witcher often warned him that signs weren't for such frivolous acts. Geralt let him cling and cuddle every night after they fucked and caressed him in return.

The most telling actions that couldn’t be written off as the witcher just being a good lover and decent man were the unconscious ones. Geralt often gave away what he was feeling with his thoughtless actions. Like when he buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair and breathed him in. Or when Geralt made sure the bard’s lute was properly tied to Roach when Jaskier wasn’t carrying it. 

He warmed Jaskier up when he shivered. He held the bard when he was scared. And most of all, Geralt sought out Jaskier when emotions were high. 

That was surely absent-minded, Geralt loathed accepting and processing emotions of any. But when Geralt was happy he smiled at  _ Jaskier _ . When he was sad he sat closer to the bard. Though he rarely instigated any kind of platonic touching -and Jaskier knew it made the witcher feel better- he had no qualms about initiating sex.

Jaskier had a feeling that Geralt was comfortable with sex more than anything platonic because he would write that off as Jaskier’s need, not his. Geralt didn’t like needing things. 

Wanting things fared even worse. 

Jaskier tried to make feeling things and expressing desires easy for Geralt. Tried to mask them as his own or comfort the witcher without drawing attention to the fact  _ he  _ was comforting _ the witcher _ . 

Jaskier did everything he could to make Geralt’s life easier and more enjoyable. Whatever was in his power to do, the bard would do it if it benefited the witcher. 

He sang songs about him and wrote poems about him and said just about anything and everything he could say to prove his love (without actually saying ‘I love you’ since he was sure such words would make his witcher explode). Because he did, Jaskier  _ loved _ Geralt. 

The witcher seemed a little too dense to realize that though, which wasn’t surprising since Geralt was often oblivious of emotions beyond anger and lust. Jaskier didn’t know what to do about their situation.

How does one convince their witcher that they have been in love with each other, but said witcher’s emotional constipation has led to neither party expressing those feelings?

Well.

One doesn’t.

Jaskier determined that the best course of action would be to ignore the problem until it went away entirely or sorted itself out.

The bard - _ who never claimed to be a genius _ \- stuck to his flawless plan of feigned obliviousness that rivaled even Geralt’s Witcher Brand denial and repression. 

And he stuck to this plan for days.

And then weeks.

And then years.

Eventually, things culminated.

…

Jaskier had a bad habit of buying tankards of ale that he couldn't drink and replacing Geralt’s empty with his own full one. It was a way for him to blend in, no one was any the wiser of a man at the bar with a drink. It worked far better than Geralt’s looming in the dark corners.

The bard’s method of camouflage didn’t come without its drawbacks, like Geralt getting shitfaced drunk from drinking twice as much ale as he normally would.

“Kier, look.” The witcher frowned into his empty mug, “There’s just bubbles.”

Jaskier blinked. 

He knew right away that the witcher was tipsy at the very least. Geralt didn’t call him anything other than ‘Bard’ and ‘Jaskier’ both with hints of irritation and/or lust unless he was inebriated. Nor did the witcher use  _ six whole words _ at a time. 

Two words were common. Three on a particularly chatty day. Four perhaps, when he had a lot to say. 

“Kier, it smells.” Geralt ...whined? The bard had no other word to describe the pout in the witcher’s lip and the scrunch of his nose. “Humans stink. You smell nice.”

For once, Jaskier didn’t know what to say.

What did one do when their fearsome witcher got shitfaced?

Jaskier tended to sequester Geralt away into their room before the witcher could cause any commotion. That has resulted in varying degrees of success, and the bard tended to call it a victory if no bar fights were instigated.

Geralt was either a chatty and clingy drunk or a shit-talking and violent drunk. Thus far, Jaskier was getting more clingy vibes than anything else.

He waved the barmaid away from Geralt’s mug, “Why don’t we head upstairs, hmm?”

Geralt furrowed his brows, “My ale is gone.”

Jaskier tutted, “I know, Dear, but we should head to our room.”

“Why?” The witcher leaned in close to the bard, “You need to sing.”

“I’m not going to perform tonight, we’re just going right to bed.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, how about we go up to our room and decide together what to do? How does that sound?”

Geralt stared at his empty mug for a moment longer, “Okay. But no sleeping.”

The bard nodded, trying to look serious. “It’s a deal, let’s go.”

He held his hand out for the witcher to take and Geralt squinted at it.

“You’re small.”

“Perhaps to you, but I assure you I’m of average size compared to just about anyone else.”

“Your legs are short.”

“Again, Geralt, it's a matter of perspective.”

“I’m gonna carry you.”

“I can walk quite quicKLY-” Jaskier squeaked as he was hefted into Geralt’s arms, “Ok, alright, you’re carrying me. With such coordination too! I’m impressed! I thought we would have hit the floor by now!”

The bard held onto Geralt’s shoulders as he climbed the stairs two at a time without so much as wavering.

Witchers were truly marvelous, even tankered.

Jaskier was set back on his feet in their room, though Geralt didn’t seem keen on putting any space between their bodies. Not that the incubus minded beyond the fact that it made doing everything more difficult.

The bard spotted the filled tub in the corner of the room, “Look, Geralt, we can have a bath! How does that sound?”

“You’ll go in with me?”

“Yes, of course, Dear. When have I ever passed up the chance to be wet, warm, and naked with you?”

“Never.” Geralt squinted. “Sometimes you’re irritating. But not this time. Let’s get in.”

Jaskier squawked, “We need to work on bedroom talk, Witcher! See if I ride your cock while we soak now!”

Geralt scoffed and warmed the water with igni. “You will. You smell like lust!” The witcher paused and inhaled again, “And me, and humans, and sunshine-”

“While I appreciate your efforts, Dear, sunshine isn’t a  _ smell.” _

“And lemongrass, and vanilla!”

_ Vanilla _ .

Sweet Melitele Geralt couldn’t have been more oblivious if he tried!

Jaskier watched the witcher disrobe without a care, as though he hadn’t just admitted to knowing that the bard loved him. As though Geralt’s own scent wasn’t saturated with the same emotion.

“Kier? Are you going to get in with me?” The witcher blinked innocently from the bath.

Jaskier snapped from his thoughts and began removing his doublet.

“Do you know why I smell like vanilla, Geralt?” Because the bard wasn’t above using Geralt’s drunken stupor to his advantage.

“‘Cause.” Was the witcher’s response, golden eyes avidly watched the incubus strip. “You love something.”

Jaskier stepped into the bath and straddle Geralt’s thighs. “And what could possibly be making me smell of love at this very moment?”

The witcher looked around the room and hummed, “Well… you  _ really  _ like baths?”

Jaskier blinked.

_ Bathes. _

_ Fucking bathes. _

“Geralt of Rivia, I thought I could let you galavant around lost in your own world void of all emotion that couldn’t be handled with either your blades or your cock. I was WRONG!”

Geralt furrowed his brows and pushed his hips up a bit, still expecting them to be well on their way to fucking. 

How unfortunate.

“I LOVE YOU!” Jaskier practically screeched. “I fucking love your dumbarse! And I WILL NOT pretend otherwise anymore! You may be just fine living your life without acknowledging your feelings but I’m not you!”

Geralt’s eyes widened into pretty yellow saucers, “You lov-”

“NO MORE WILL I PRETEND! This is it! I love you, Geralt of the Wolf School! I fucking love you and want to cherish you and ravish you and be with you all the time! And I know you seem to be under the impression that witchers don’t have feelings but that entirely bollocks!”

“Jaskier!” The witcher huffed, “You love me?”

The incubus huffed and crossed his arms, “Do you ever listen to me? Yes Geralt, I’ve only said it a thousand times! I also know for a FACT that you-”

“I love you too.”

“Are in lovewithmetoo,” Jaskier leaned further into Geralt, heedless of the sloshing water, “What did you say?”

“I love you, Songbird.” Geralt gathered the bard close and Jaskier tucked his head under the witcher’s chin in shock.

For a moment he just hovered in Geralt’s lap feeling relieved, flabbergasted, and overwhelmingly happy. 

_ Geralt loved him! _

While Jaskier  _ knew that,  _ knowing it and hearing straight from Geralt were two VERY different things. 

Jaskier paused. 

_ Geralt knew! _

“How long have you loved me, Geralt?” The bard asks with a scrunched up nose.

The witcher just shrugs. Sobered up, then.

“You can’t ‘hmm’ and ‘ha’ your way out of this one!” The incubus sat back and waved his finger around as he spoke. “Just how long have you known your feelings and FAILED to inform me of them, Geralt?”

The witcher raised his eyebrows, “I could ask you the same.”

_ Well,  _ Jaskier stared for a moment,  _ when you put it like that… _

“I suppose we’ve both been foolish with our emotions.” The bard inclined his head. “At least we both know now.”

Geralt hummed.

“And we can properly express our emotions to one another.”

The witcher squinted.

“I’m going to write ballads about our love, Geralt! I will melt your heart with my sweet poetry! I will captivate all your attention and you will look at me with adoration!”

“You already have.”

“I’ve already done what? I just started my quest to woo you! I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Captivated me.” Geralt looked off to the side, “You have my attention, Songbird, all the time.”

Jaskier squealed and his heart stuttered. 

Geralt was no poet, but Gods! He sure knew exactly what to say sometimes.

“You should ride my cock now.”

... _ Sometimes. _

The declaration hadn’t gone quite as Jaskier had imagined over the years. Nor was it particularly song worthy, but he could add some dazzling theatricals and pompous drama. 

He was a bard after all.

He could make a waltz through a bog sound delightful.

_ Yes,  _ Jaskier thought,  _ I will write many songs and poems about this.  _

Geralt would huff about their erroneous nature, the bard was sure. But Jaskier would love him anyway.

The truth is far sweeter, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote Geralt's part in two days. It was easy to piece together and flowed so fast!  
> This however took forever! I spent a week writing and rewriting it!  
> I'm finally content with it and REALLY want to move onto other ideas I have for them.  
> So I hope you enjoyed reading and know I'm not done with these two!

**Author's Note:**

> So in summary, Geralt is dense and in Love.  
> The next part will be up soon and in Jaskier's pov.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
